


Actions, if not words

by Fancy_Dragonqueen



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Feral Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hands, Hurt Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Little bit of angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Soft Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Soft Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28280316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fancy_Dragonqueen/pseuds/Fancy_Dragonqueen
Summary: "Nicolo’s hands are cold in his grasp and Yusuf tries not to dwell on the knowledge that the man might not have let anyone else do this to him. Ever.He tries a reassuring smile, before dunking both their hands into the basin. The water is warm, not too hot, just right for the herbs and spices to open up and let their magic work."
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 26
Kudos: 238





	Actions, if not words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [humii369](https://archiveofourown.org/users/humii369/gifts).



> Surprise!  
> This is a Secret Santa for our dearest humi. :squinty eyes: I hope you didn’t saw that one coming
> 
> thanks for my lovely betas and the cheerreaders and I shared it with half the server waesrtdzgfh to make sure that it could be something you might like. but in the end. it all came back to one thing.
> 
> Hands ;) Have fun!

They had spent the last months together.

Him and the Crusader that somehow couldn’t die, that somehow was like him. Despite their differences.

Yusuf had spent a lot of time getting to know this new man in his life. This companion he didn’t know what to make of.

The language barrier was still there but it wasn’t something Yusuf really cared about. They did well with signing and altogether the man seemed to be rather on the quiet side. Surprising, as he had gotten to know him screaming on the battlefield.

In their own space, which Yusuf inwardly had started to call home, because right now, in this time it was a home and a shelter for both of them, the man was oddly quiet. Not a bad quiet but still tense. He could feel the man, Nicolo, being terribly uncomfortable, not wanting to meet his eyes most of the time, lying awake at night.

They had come to a truce and despite everything that had happened, Yusuf still wanted to give him a second chance.

There must be a reason why they were both chosen not to die. As neither of them were stricken down from above yet, Yusuf thought that they were maybe not meant to fight each other, but instead to build a truce. To show that they could live together, both religions.

Whatever the reason, Yusuf couldn’t stand it anymore.

There was something bothering him since they were somehow living together and he wanted to take care of it once and for all.

Yusuf had watched Nicolo more than once. First to make sure the man didn’t kill him in his sleep, or others. Then to make sure he didn’t bolt or do something dumb because he was clearly in pain of seeing the people suffer when they looked at him. The invader.

And the man was suffering himself. The way he was holding himself, even though they were constantly healing, Yusuf knew they still felt pain. Sometimes even from wounds that have long since healed.

It would hopefully fade with time, but he couldn’t be sure.

Moreso it made it all the more urgent to take care of this stubborn Crusader that tried to hide his wounds, tried to hide how his hands were shaking. Tried to hide how the soft skin of his hands was breaking open and healing again from the rough sand, from working in their backyard, trying to let something grow.

From trying to be useful and be good and make something for them. Mostly cooking. It wasn’t that Yusuf couldn’t cook but he liked to give up his attempts to feed them when he saw how much happiness and calm it brought Nicolo. So the next time he might have burned the food a bit too long, not too badly but enough for the man to take it off of him.

It stopped Nicolo from trying to find work, to try to go to the market and be seen, spit at or even hit. They accepted Yusuf grudgingly and warmed up a bit to the Crusader but it wasn’t enough. Would probably never be enough.

And yet Nicolo tried so hard.

It was what brought Yusuf to want to show him kindness himself. It was also what brought Yusuf to realizing that he might feel a bit more for this man than he first had thought. How easily hate could turn into something so much deeper, something so much more sacred.

Yusuf just hoped that the man wouldn’t hate him again for wanting to touch him, carefully massage his shoulders to get rid of the tension. Yusuf didn’t even need a lot, didn’t even want it all. He just wanted Nicolo to feel better, to look happier and healthier. He wanted him to speak up when something hurt him and not hide his hands when he hurt himself.

This is why he had prepared the washing basin with hot water, oil and healing herbs he had acquired from the market. His mother had taught him how to use, mix and prepare it in the most efficient way. He had done it for her when she’d worked in the gardens and had loved to do something so loving for her.

It might be a bit too intimate to do it with the Crusader but it was also a way to show that he really didn’t mean harm for him anymore, a sign of peace. A new beginning.

Yusuf felt Nicolo’s sharp gaze heavy on himself and what he was doing. He could almost feel the wariness in the poor man.

He gestures for Nicolo to sit, right in front of him, taking the other chair so that the basin is in between  them but not far enough for their knees to not hit each other underneath the table. Yusuf reaches out for Nicolo's hands, manages to grasp them without the man being able to jerk them back, surprise and shock clear in his eyes. There is a sudden moment of hurt and fear that flickers over his face and Yusuf feels how Nicolo tries to take them back. Yusuf won’t let him, slightly increasing the pressure, feeling guilty when he sees Nicolo deflating as if to make himself smaller.

  
  


He also feels bad for putting pressure on the bruises, one he carefully brushes his thumb over. Just a feathers touch but he hears the soft hiss and looks up apologetic, eyes wide when he sees how Nicolo has come closer, their faces way too near now.

Nicolo’s hands are cold in his grasp and Yusuf tries not to dwell on the knowledge that the man might not have let anyone else do this to him. Ever.

He tries a reassuring smile, before dunking both their hands into the basin. The water is warm, not too hot, just right for the herbs and spices to open up and let their magic work.

Yusuf heard a choked off noise from Nicolo, a confused sound as if that was the last thing the man had expected. He looked up and caught the man staring at the water in wonder and disbelief, blue eyes flicking between their hands and Yusuf’s face, mouth slightly open as if to ask something Yusuf would have a problem with understanding.

Normally he would lose himself in the childlike awe in the man’s face every time he sees something he didn’t know yet. And there was so much Nicolo hadn’t seen. Yusuf wanted to show him everything, wanted to never stop watching him. But this now? This wasn’t about him, so he smiled a bit brighter and looked back into the washing basin, slowly letting go of one hand, to gather the other in both of his.

He couldn’t believe that finally after everything that had been between them, he could touch him, give him a tiny bit of comfort. It might not have been the way Yusuf would have liked but it was also more tender than he’d ever thought they could touch each other.

His own fingers brushed over damaged skin, already mending back together. Yusuf was sure if he lifted the hands out of the water, the bruises would have been gone, the skin intact. It would be still rough and if he was right about what he was doing now, he would be able to help with it.

His fingers danced over the inside of the palm, tracing the long fingers that would feel like Jannah on his own skin. Yusuf is sure that everything is as it’s supposed to be, it felt too good and too tender to be anything but right.

Before he knows he’s humming a soft melody, one that his mother had sung to him whenever he’d been hurt, while gently massaging the palm of Nicolo’s hand, working up to his wrist slowly.

Yusuf knows how much trust Nicolo gives him right now. How easily he could snap the fragile wrist. How easily he could hurt him like that and yet, he could feel Nicolo slowly relaxing, tension bleeding out of his body, while the other hand played with a stray herb he had managed to catch.

At this point he doesn’t dare to look up and see Nicolo’s face, not because he fears for the reaction, but because he fears he might kiss the kind man. His lips would need some more care too, either way.

With a soft smile he focuses on the sweet song stuck in his brain and the cherishing of this soft and tender moment between them.

  
  
  
  


*Nicolo*

Nicolo was confused. Nothing made sense anymore. He’d come to this land to get back what they’d thought was rightfully theirs. Yet, if it was God’s will to conquer the Holy Land, why did so many of them die? Was it a test? Was it a sign to turn back? Were any of them even right or was it just a human mistake? A misguidance?

Nicolo didn’t know. He didn’t know anything anymore from the moment he had first died and came back.

The only thing making sense anymore was the man in front of him. The man he should hate. And yet the man showed him nothing but kindness. The moment he had reached out to end the eternal war between them and had started a much more confusing adventure than the Holy War had ever been.

It had awoken a desire in Nicolo he’d thought he’d overcome. A burning in his chest that grew stronger the more he saw of the man. Of Yusuf. He’d introduced himself with a much longer name, laughing at him when Nicolo had stumbled over it in the attempt to reproduce it.

He hadn’t even been able to be angry at himself or the man. Not with how the man’s dark brown eyes had lit up, the full and melodic laughter that had burned Nicolo to his core. Head thrown back and a full belly laugh, showing his surprisingly white teeth and awfully intriguing laugh lines around his eyes.

He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

Of course he had tried to distance himself from the man, not being able to take more of his kindness. More than once he’d wondered if God had sent him one of his angels. Nicolo knew how terrifying they could be and how full of wonder when it pleased them.

Yusuf could be an angel, fighting like a warrior in all his glory from the moment he had flown from the crumbling city walls. Nicolo had been blinded by the man, jumping from the stones, sun behind him that almost looked like wings. He had been almost starved, the sun too bright, the sand too hot. Maybe he had been hallucinating, maybe he had not. He’d been stunned the moment he had seen the heathen and had wondered how someone so majestic could be the enemy.

It made it even more of a sin that Nicolo wanted to touch him. Reach out to him and touch the little wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled. Card his fingers through the curly hair, the carefully trimmed beard. But the man, angel or not, would know and he couldn’t let him know.  He wore the face of Nicky's enemies and yet was nothing alike them

  
  


Nicolo should have known that avoiding him, and avoiding the want to touch him, couldn’t be that easy. If the man really was an angel and this was a test, God would make it hard for him. And he knew that he would fail. How could any living human not fail this test?

Nicolo was proven right when one day Yusuf suddenly sat next to him in the little hut they had taken for themselves, the washing basin they shared carefully set onto the table.

It smelled divine and Nicolo wondered why the man had made them soup in the basin and not in one of their cooking pots. There were leaves and precious milk, somehow oil too? Nicky was confused but there had been so many wonders Yusuf had shown him, that he was eager to learn of a new one. Even if he didn’t trust the peace.

What was even more suspicious was the way Yusuf smiled at him. Guarded, careful. As if approaching a feral animal.

_ Maybe this is the end. Maybe now he will kill me. _

What other reason would justify making soup in the washing basin of all things? It surely had been poisoned and Yusuf didn’t want to accidentally eat it himself.

Nicolo knew he wouldn’t be able to kill Yusuf in return. He would just wait for him to get over with it, so that Yusuf could vanish in peace. He was pretty sure Yusuf was fed up with him. Not being able to do anything or learn the language fast enough, only good for cooking. Surely Yusuf had found someone better suited to feed him, than what Nicolo could provide. He wasn’t even able to get something from the market, unsure if he would come back alive and uninjured, revealing their secret on the way.

The moment Yusuf reached out to him and took Nicolo’s hands into his own, Nicolo almost jerked away. Not because he was afraid of dying but because he was afraid of not surviving if this was the last touch he would get and remember from this beautiful man.

Yusuf’s hands were so soft and well cared for and whatever Nicolo tried, his own were rough, the skin broken and even if it healed he could never achieve a softness like Yusuf.

The sand only made everything worse and some nights he lied awake, trying not to cry from how often his hands were opened by the rough sand and healed over and over again only to be broken up the next moment. The nights where he lied awake and could only focus on his body and the things that happened over the day, trying to forget what happened months ago.

The grip around his hands got a bit harder and Nicolo tried to ignore the tears that were conjured by his traitorous body. How cruel of Yusuf to touch him so tenderly before he made him undone.

Somehow Nicolo managed to blink the tears away and if he kept his head down to stare at the soup that was now ruined by their hands in it, still not quite sure what was happening.

He looked up a little bit, staring at Yusuf through his long hair that kept falling into his face, whatever he tried to do with it, and found the man beaming at him happily. As if he just achieved one of his greatest successes.

How confusing.

Nicolo couldn’t help but hiss quietly when Yusuf's fingers found a particularly nasty bruise and brushed over it, softly humming in what seemed like an apology. What was even more confusing was that Yusuf started humming, a song he’d heard him hum before, when he treated someone wounded or one of the animals that was distressed.

He really didn’t know why Yusuf would hum it to him now but he’d dreamed of him singing it to him. It was horribly selfish and even the pope, who had relieved him of going to hell for all future sins when he joined the crusades, would not be able to rescue him there.

Nicolo wanted this moment to last forever. His hands in Yusuf’s, his soft voice, the tender smile. He could be happy that god had sent him a kind angel to end him. His breath hitched when Yusuf took his left hand in both of his and started to knead into the muscles of his palm.

It was a strange mixture of hurt and release as if something in his palms was being unfurled that he didn’t know was too tight.

  
  


Yusuf's fingers were surprisingly strong, stroking and massaging his palm, his fingers one after another to only carefully go back to his wrist, softly turning it around, pressing into the skin and making him moan pathetically. He couldn’t help it, it felt so good after the first parts hurt and then he could only melt into the touches, into the confusingly calming thing Yusuf was doing to him. The soup, that somehow wasn’t a soup but might be a tincture of some kind? Whatever it was, it still smelled wonderful, and combined with the humming and the touch made him close his eyes, unsure what to do to help or improve.

Yusuf seemed to be content in what he was doing and Nicolo tried not to whine when he switched hands, leaving the left hand unattended and took care of his right one. 

_ *Yusuf* _

Nicolo didn’t draw away.

Instead, he seemed to lean into the touch, confusion written all over his face but so willingly to trust him that Yusuf wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him.

Not that he wasn’t proud they were at this point, but sometimes Nicolo seemed so lost and eager for someone to lead him, to tell him what to do and how to do it right. Yusuf was afraid he could be used by any other person that would try to take advantage of his guilt.

Yusuf would love to have words to tell him that there was no need for it, that what Nicolo did was enough. That the way Yusuf could look at him, could feel the love in the tiny things this man he had first thought a brute, was giving into daily chores, into making this a home despite being nothing like that. That this was more than enough.

Yusuf had thought he would hate this man for eternity but it hadn’t taken long for him to fall for the kindness in his being and he knew he was gone for the Crusader from the moment he had shyly smiled at him with those big bluish eyes, when he’d first cleaned Yusuf’s clothes for him. Hope in his eyes that what he’d done had been good.

A task Yusuf himself hated.

Giving Nicolo something in return, even the tiniest happiness like this wonderful bliss he could see in the man’s face, the slow relaxing of his shoulders, his fingers and his face. It was all and more that he’d wished for.

All too soon the water was cooling and Yusuf knew that there was no way he could drag this out longer, their fingers already going wrinkly.

He carefully took Nicolo’s right hand out of the water and wrapped it into a towel, sad that it was rough and not soft like the silk he had seen on the market. One of those days he would be able to afford it for them and gift it to Nicolo.

Nicolo, though, didn’t seem to mind, his lips the tiniest bit open, tongue slipping out to wet his upper lip. They were always split like his hands and it hurt Yusuf personally to see them like that.

He had prepared something else, herbs mixed with honey to cover Nicolo’s hands with and to put some linen around them so that the honey could soak into the skin. But now that he looked at Nicolo’s lips he wondered if he could be so bold.

  
  


Carefully he scooped a bit of the honey onto his finger, looking at Nicolo who’d opened his eyes and watched him, nervously biting his lip. Yusuf wanted to scold him for it but instead, he lifted his fingers and looked at him questioning.

Nicolo nodded and Yusuf smiled.

This beautiful man didn’t even know what he allowed him but he wasn’t one to refuse a gift like that.

Slowly he lifted his hand, watched Nicolo’s eyes widen in realization. The man opened his mouth slightly to gain him access and Yusuf carefully coated the wet lips with his fingers and the sticky honey mix, tracing the lower one slower than necessary to watch the blue eyes turning into a storm that tried to drown him.

It also seemed not to be what the man had thought because the confusion on his face deepened and he seemed to be struggling with something.

Yusuf took pity and removed his finger, only for him to be attacked all of a sudden.

The water in the basin sloshed over, when Nicolo supported himself to get up like a lightning bolt, flooding the table when it tumbled over from the force. Yusuf didn’t even try to defend himself but it was an attack he hadn’t seen coming. He hadn’t expected Nicolo to be that fast. He hadn’t even dreamed of it happening like that.

All of a sudden he had Nicolo in front of him, their knees bumping together. Lips pressed against each other awkwardly, frozen like that. It had been hard and a bit wrong because their lips didn’t quite work like that. Nicolo had managed to hit more of his beard than his lips in his hurry.

Yusuf could see the panic starting to seep into the kind eyes and felt water from Nicolo’s still dripping hand into his clothes. He felt Nicolo retreating and he knew that if he let him go now, he would never see him again.

He couldn’t let him go.

Yusuf’s hands grabbed the front of his tunic, dragged him back so that Nicolo could only stare at him in fear, a wounded whine in the back of his throat.

“Nicolo,” was all he could breathe out before he brought one hand up to Nicolo’s cheek, the other firmly stuck in the fabric. He smiled carefully, before licking his own lips, looking at Nicolo’s to indicate that yes. Yes he wanted to try that again, but with the panic in Nicolo’s face he didn’t know if the man understood what was happening. He would need to convince him with actions instead of words.

Yusuf could taste the honey and the herbs and he knew he would need to apply it again, but right now? Right now it was okay to softly kiss it all away. He just needed to show him how it is done properly.

Awkwardly, as he didn’t want to let go of him, he managed to get up from the chair, eyes still firm on the man who looked down to the floor, defeated. It was a look he didn’t want to see on him. Never again.

“Nicolo.” He tried again, gaining a little flicker of those wonderful eyes. Slowly he let go of the fabric but kept his hand warm on the cheek, trying not to sigh softly when Nicolo leaned a little bit into the touch. “Nicolo.” He repeated before he cradled his face now in both his hands.

There were tears now, slowly welling up as if they’d waited for him to show kindness in return and he carefully brushed them away with his thumb.

Before any of them could do anything dumb, he closed the distance and pressed their lips together, slow and careful. He wanted to taste him, but also wanted to show him that love was soft and caring and he poured all his feelings into the kiss, slowly moving their lips together. Nicolo seemed to be stunned for a moment before his hands found their way onto Yusuf’s hips, shaking but firm in their grip, as if Yusuf would vanish any moment if he’d let go now.

Not that he had any intention to do something foolish like that.

Not when this dream finally came true.

The tears were flowing freely now, but he could feel Nicolo laughing into his mouth, trying to recreate what Yusuf was doing. It was sweet and Yusuf’s heart burst with joy.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but at last they needed to stop to breathe and Yusuf leaned forward to bump their foreheads together, his eyes half open to watch Nicolo who watched him in return. Neither of them talked but words weren’t needed. Not when Nicolo smiled at him through his eyes. Not when he knew that his own were reflecting the same joy.

  
  


It was many weeks later that Nicolo confessed to him that it had not only been his first kiss, but that he’d thought Yusuf was an avenging angel sent by God, trying to poison him with soup when he had brought the washing basin.

“Why would I have made soup in the washing basin?” He’d asked through his laughter, playfully trying to avoid the cooking spoon that he was being hit with.

“How could I know? I thought you didn’t want to poison yourself!”

And it was Yusuf that initiated the kiss then, sweeter now and more experienced as they repeated it every day. Though what warmed him the most was how Nicolo melted into the kiss, laughter in his being, a soft blush on his cheeks of the innocent fears he had just confessed. 

But that was okay.

All was good now.

  
  



End file.
